Kvelling about culture since 2004. With occasional kvetching...you know, for the balance of the chakras.

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On September 13, 2001, I wrote an email (full text linked) to some friends and family, with some first reactions to what had happened to America two days before. This email was from an account that expired about five years ago, and I had lost access to all the things I'd sent years before.

Those words should have been gone forever. But thanks to Facebook, I put out an APB on my lost words, and a friend - who had been on the initial distribution list 10 years ago - searched his mail, found my words, and returned them to me. This proved to be a gift to me - a chance to revisit my state of mind and mourning so many years ago, and to see what has and hasn't changed since that day.

But this isn't my real 9/11 post. My real 9/11 post is somewhere in the air between my brain and the keyboard, and aspires to arrive before the 10th anniversary, over the next few days. This is both prelude to that post and retrospective of posts past, a visit from and with my old words, with their different levels of shock, trauma, distance and contemplation. I share these words, from that previously-lost email, from this blog and from articles I've written - and dated 2001, 2003, 2007, 2008, and 2009 respectively - below.

Whoever you are and whenever you're there, if you chose to be in Vegas, you’re probably there because you crave, at least a little, to suspend logic, reason and thought, or because you yearn to reintroduce your serious self to its more spontaneous side. But for 1200 Jews imported for something called TribeFest, the pull to the desert was something more. These Jews, ages 25-45, took the confusing cacophony of Sin City, and added to their agenda of cocktails, craps and clubbing an exploration of Jewish identity.

For me, TribeFest came not quite at the end of two months of conference-going. Most of these were Jewish conferences, each with an intense, exploratory vibe. From the BBYO International Convention to LimmudLA and Jewlicious, those conferences were marked by serious investigations of Jewish life, leadership, culture and identity in sessions large and small, but all of them managed to feel intimate and interactive. TribeFest was a slightly different animal, largely - I believe - because of the size, but also because of the location.

With the location (and imperative to socialize) providing a formidable distraction to the programmed content, it’s a wonder that anyone went to any sessions at all, especially my Tuesday “morning after the last night of Vegas camp” session on careers in the Jewish communal world. But they came, not just to that impossibly scheduled session, but to all of them. In fact, they came in droves – there was a huge line to hear my longtime friend Sharon Pomerantz and author Joshua Braff speak about their respective novels, and I was almost closed out of the “Work the System” session, which would have been its own story had I not been rescued by someone from JFNA who understood that it was important for me to be in that room. At the standing-room only session, passionate attendees tuned in for specific notes of how to encourage collaboration between Federations and innovative initiatives, and in fact, in a challenge of the word “innovation” itself. (Anyone have audio or video footage from that session? Please share…)

At (and after) several sessions, I overheard people yearning for a more interactive framework - breakout sessions of 60 people didn't provide people with the intimacy they wanted, but perhaps had no right to expect from Vegas (or from a conference of this size). I have the impression that many sessions could have gone well into overtime by answering all of the hands that flew up in a room. Of course, it would have been great if we could have managed to filter out "non-questions" - when a speaker asks "any questions?" and people raise their hands and speak without asking any kind of interrogative statement used to test knowledge (but that's not important right now).

Some may have wandered in and out during plenaries (word on the ground is that non-sports fans may have found “Lunch with a Legend” – one of the least diverse sessions at TribeFest - skippable), or traded session attendance to take in a show (or a nap) before the evening festivities, but participants are to be commended for an overall impressive attendance record. And as uninspiring as some sessions and speakers were, others resonated with standing ovations. The incomparable and undisputed TribeFest champion was Alina Gerlovin Spaulding, who spoke passionately and personally about how the Jewish community transformed her life and that of her family when they emigrated from Ukraine - this moment was a watershed, concretizing for many the importance of structures like the Federation in helping families in need. (For a short play-by-play of the conference, see Jewcy.)

I would be surprised if any PhD theses on Jewish identity were born over those few days in Vegas, but there was a palpable feeling of Jewish excitement at specific moments. In the opening plenary, the Hebrew Mamita’s delivery of her eponymous spoken word piece - an exploration of her own Jewish identity and pride - caused a vibrant cheer to erupt at its conclusion. Many identified with the presentation by actress Mayim Bialik, who spoke candidly about her Judaism. (A partial transcript is here.) VideoJew Jay Firestone called it Birthright meets Burning Man in his video synopsis. (My video synopsis is being held for editing by my editor, me.)

In the less-than-a-week time period since the 2.5 day conference ended, there’s been some nostalgic yearning for the energy and people left behind. Twitter, in particular, has hosted a lovefest of energy and private jokes, over the #tribefest hashtag and beyond; Facebook, too, has swelled with wall postings and reminiscences, as new friends communicated across the miles. Just now, people are beginning to upload photographic proof of the good time had by all, and edit videos in a way that conveys said good time, hopefully in a way in which no Jewish professionals lose their jobs. Not that anything untoward would ever happen to a bunch of Jews in as wholesome a place as Vegas...we're just overly cautious that way.

I know the #tribefest hashtag won't last forever - but I'll watch it as long as it's there; like credits rolling at the end of a movie, I'm with them until the final frame fades into the distance, fades to black, and then it's over.

[Here's my first video report for the ROI Community filmed shortly after I arrived. Plus, in case you missed it, here's when I became a one-name sensation, much like Cher and Madonna, of course, but in a Jewish Twitter context. Other videos and photos to come, no doubt.]

I recently signed up for an event using EventBrite – it offered an option to post to my Facebook wall that I had RSVP’d and was planning to attend. I clicked “yes,” sharing it with my network via my wall. While some people responded that they would be joining me, another discussion also popped up – around the language that event organizers use when they want to attract – let’s just call it – “young energy.” The discussion was remarkable both for its intelligent conversation and for its tone of respect – not always a given in “Facebook wall discussion.”

In my post, I had described the event as being geared for “young professionals,” hoping to avoid the conversation about the stated age range (25-39), because - really, how are a 40-year-old’s needs or ideas older, or less valuable, than a 39-year-old’s? – age ranges delineate the difference between young and old in a way that’s not always helpful.

Sarah Lefton, co-founder of G-dcast.com, registered her frustration with the phrase "young professionals", noting that “this is a pet peeve phrase of mine and Federations seem to love it.”

Susanne Goldstone Rosenhouse (she of Jewish Tweets and so much more Jewish social media), added: “[she and her husband] went to an event here in Dallas for 'Young Professionals' and were literally the only marrieds there. The attendees thought we were chaperones or something. At least in NY or LA its a more ambiguous term.”

I (unintentionally) fomented the discussion with a few words. “Just don’t call it a singles event.”

Sarah responded that her objection wasn’t about marital status, but about the implication of “professionals”: “Are grad students, teachers, artists and nonprofit workers unwelcome? Because to me, what is coded into the phrase young professionals is, ‘people with money.’" She noted that, if truly everyone young is welcome, why not say young adults? Speaking from her experience as someone who was “dirt broke poor” as an artist and non profit employee and felt excluded by Jewish events, she said that “whether they MEANT to feel exclusive is not the point. It's what the perception is on the outside.”

Another commenter responded with the observation that in a different time and place, "Jewish Young Professional" could have meant something different, and that moreover, in different neighborhoods and denominations, even the word “Jewish” has differing definitions.

So here’s EstherK’s question: how do we make sure that what we name our “young professionals” divisions reflects both intention and a feeling of inclusion, while making sure that our events attract the appropriate populations?

Sarah (a former ad exec) suggests that “focus groups help us get outside our own experience…the phrase ‘young professionals’ seems to be at least a psychological barrier to entry to at least some people.”

Most organizations struggle with these labels as well as with age cut-offs. On the one hand, you want to indicate that a certain event is geared with a certain age, area of interest or marital status in mind, so people don't come with vastly unrealistic expectations. But who is to say that a 36-year-old has different needs than a 35-year-old when it comes to programming, socializing, etc? Take me as an example: I don't mind mixing with people who are already married, and who have children. But if an event promising an "exploration of the Passover seder" turns into "how to engage your children during a late-night Jewish ritual," that probably wouldn’t be something I’d make time for in my schedule.

Additionally, the term 'young leadership' may also be a challenge for people who might be looking for a way to engage, but as a participant and not necessarily want or have time for a leadership track. And you don't have to be a commitmentphobe to dislike this term. Unless we say "young leadership" is the same as "young adults" - which makes everyone a leader, whether or not they want it to.

I always vote for inclusion, and for events that are so wildly important and compelling that they include people from across different demographics in a perfect symphony of community...but which events (not the one-offs, like DAWN or even Limmud) can continually, successfully engage all demographics? The reality is that some events are more appropriate for certain populations than for others.

Sarah light-heartedly suggested that I "tell the funders you're achieving your goals on Facebook, to hell with the events. :)"

Done. I’m pretty sure my blog is now eligible for a major Jewish continuity grant.

What do you think, blogosphere? Is there a magic solution to this issue of language, inclusion and specificity surrounding “Jewish young adult” events?

Right before I left Israel, I opened up an article in the JPost that I'd seen posted on Facebook by former JPost editor and current JAFI spokesperson Haviv Rettig Gur (who apparently has a Wikipedia bio). The article (not written by Haviv) is an interview with new JTAExecutive Editor Ami Eden, who revealed very little about JTA's actual plans, but spoke broadly about collaboration and creating a "unified web presence" for the American Jewish newspapers:

Looking ahead, he declared one of his “top priorities” would be greater cooperation with other Jewish media outlets. Ideas for collaborations were “percolating,” Eden said, and would materialize between “12 and 18 months.”

“I think it’s clear that most American Jewish newspapers haven’t figured out how to make money online,” he said. “Why should we not try to create a unified Web presence having one big Web site with a team that’s constantly keeping it fresh? We clearly could be pulling our technological resources and sharing the Web traffic. If we’re all investing in the same Web traffic, it becomes a great idea.”

Eden declined to go into further detail.

There is - of course - much to talk about here, which I started to synthesize while commenting on Haviv's Facebook wall (whoever says Facebook is useless really needs to start trolling better walls). I could jump to conclusions about how this plan is overly ambitious, or smacks of manifest destiny, with JTA playing the role of arbiter for what's best for American Jewish journalism. But any such discussion is premature, since this germ of an idea doesn't present the details or address the myriad challenges likely to arise.

But speaking as a writer, I can tell you that in the technology age (and I can't wait until we can stop saying that), journalism in general needs to figure out lots of things, including what the value of content is and how to ensure that content providers are paid fairly. And if this is true of mainstream magazines and newspapers, then it's certainly true of Jewish news outlets, which work with smaller audiences and smaller budgets than their mainstream cousins.

Come to think of it, how is this different from the discussions in the JPost, or the debates going on in the Jewish Agency? We're all trying to figure out what the Jews need, and how to give it to them.

So here's one question: Who are "the Jews"? And here's another one: Who speaks for "the Jews"?

The next few paragraphs do not answer those questions. They deal mostly with trying to identify a path for the future of Jewish journalism and the JTA's relationship to local Jewish publications, but keep Haviv's framing in mind when you read them. In other words, this is about the future of Jewish journalism, or of practically anything else.

I "virtually attended" this year's JFNA General Assembly via Twitter, specially noting the tweets about the social media workshops and the night-time Tweetup: the sense of excitement was palpable, not just that people who already use Twitter showed up for drinks, but that there were many older people there, people who were less experienced with social media, but wanted to learn.

There was a time in my life when I might have considered myself primarily a freelance writer. But as Jewish journalism struggles with its relationship to technology, it has also cut back on freelance budgets. Although I still primarily define my life's work as writing, this year I've done more paid work in blogging, social media and online marketing/PR consulting than I have Jewish journalism. My clients have been individuals and non-profit organizations, have hailed from both New York, Los Angeles and Canada, as well as Israel. (Some L.A. clients I still haven't met in person). Nearly all of my work is through personal referrals - people who trust my expertise and approach and refer me to other people they know and are inspired by. I felt comfortable moving to L.A. last October because I had "met" enough people online to build a community with offline, even starting over in a new city. This world - of social referrals and connections - is my professional and personal world, but increasingly, it's how we all live.

The good news is that lots of people who either wanted to ignore or minimize the importance of the rapid rise in social media, are now paying attention. The not-so-good news is that they are stressing over their own ignorance about how to effectively use the new tools, how to respond to pressures from some of their younger, hipper supporters to get proficient and get onboard, and most importantly worrying about where to find the talent to lead their newly important technology-driven marketing and communications efforts and make them look good.

Stress over ignorance

While this fear and stress is true for some organizations, I've found a steady demand from Jewish organizations who need decently-priced, accessible expertise to help them understand the culture of social media and suggest solutions to take them to the next level. (I know that some of my colleagues, including my friends at Darim Online, will agree.) These organizations are a delight to help, because they a) are forward-thinking enough to consider what their futures look like in the technology age, and b) acknowledge that they need someone to help who can respect organizational history and still offer solutions that will advance their mission. To invoke the old "how many psychologists does it take to change a lightbulb" joke, "the lightbulb has to want to change." The culture of change is very difficult to embrace, but if there's anything that Jews believe across denominational lines, is that ignorance is not a chronic condition, and learning is good.

Do you remember the world before Facebook? Before music lived on a computer, or was transmitted through your white earbuds from your iPod? In the last ten years, there's been death and destruction, human and natural, worldwide. There were cultural advancements and economic depressions. Go back even further. Remember Y2K? Elian Gonzalez? Hanging chads? And then, of course, there was 9/11. And everything else.

Newsweek recently redesigned the content and format of its print magazine to focus less on news and more on analysis, an act of submission to the changing world of journalism. This liaison with Facebook also seems to evoke a white flag raised to the reality of how today's citizens get and process their news. It seems that Newsweek hopes that the interest online will translate to an interest in the publication, however it evolves in the years to come. Meanwhile, I'm letting my subscription to print-edition Newsweek expire, but joined the Fan Page; while this is more convenient for me, how does it pay a publication's staff?

It's a smart strategy to involve social media. But it also emanates the sadness of the industry's great unknowns.

For a woman like me, this Digital Hollywood conference is like a crash course in some things I know and some things I don't know, all at the same time. Obviously, being at a professional conference specifically geared for the entertainment industry in the town I moved to a year ago is a new experience for me: I don't know who the players are; how a TV writer hones her craft and makes connections; how a celebrity gets his or her press; or how Hollywood views the internet.

And yet, I do.

Sure, there are some processes and politics that are specific to the industry of Hollywood and celebrity gossip. But publicity, whether it's for Spencer and Heidi (whatever) or for a name change at an umbrella organization of Jewish federations (see here), is about two things for a publicist: crafting the message and getting that message out. What the message is is situation-specific; and the modes used for distributing that message should be as well. One could point out a vital third component with two parts: relationship - both the relationship between the publicist and his/her client, and the relationship between the publicist/client entity and members of the press.

Several ideas and experiences seemed familiar or intuitive to me, but were hailed as innovative by the audience, which consisted of an eclectic group of underemployed, self-employed, publicists, writers, editors, actors, producers, content developers, web designers, techie coder geeks, advertising representatives, lawyers, event planners and professional schmoozers. With a group that large and diverse, programming had to be similarly diverse in terms of appeal and approach, and in many cases it was. But it's hard to speak to a group with so many degrees of online literacy

For instance, if you didn't realize that making it in Hollywood was hard, well, you would after attending the conference - at one point I imagined Debbie Allen in the corner, leaning on a dance stick, giving her monologue ("You got big dreams? You want fame? Well fame costs...and right here's where you start paying -- in sweat." FAME!). Also, did you know that "Glee" was popular in part due to its premiere over the summer and then the anticipatory build until the season began in September? Or, that "The Office" didn't have that strong a following at first, but then built because of the online audience? Or that "Dr. Horrible" was financed personally by Joss Whedon? Or that the "Mad Men" characters have been Tweeting, but that they're not supported by AMC - they're a fan initiative? I've never been to a tech conference before, but I, in fact, did know all these things. But the oohs and aahs of the audience proved that not everyone reads Entertainment Weekly like I do.

There also seemed to be unrelenting criticism of bloggers as panelists and attendees seemed to alternately thank the bloggers for mobilizing fans online and condemn them for their unpredictability, and for not following traditional journalism's rules. This constant reference to all bloggers as unprofessional (which is not the same thing as calling them "not journalists") highlighted the fact that people don't get it: blogging is a tool, and all kinds of people use that tool to do all kinds of writing. (This disconnect is something those of us in Jewish journalism/commentary have seen before, if you remember "Jewish Bloggers Are Not the Enemies of Jewish Storytelling.")

Some bloggers write journalistically, others juvenilely. And there's a continuum, of course. Many of us do employ a different tone than traditional journalism, and write in this tone because the medium's democracy and immediacy lends itself to the personal lens that most bloggers take to the subjects about which they're most passionate. But for the most part, I heard people blame bloggers more than thank them: for leaking stories, for lying, for being a source of negative press, for being uncontrollable, for being unprofessional, for ushering traditional journalism toward its deathbed...I was waiting to hear how bloggers were responsible for higher taxes, Michael Jackson's death, and 9/11, but I guess I missed that session.